


A Gryffindor and a Slytherin Walk Into a Bar

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Draco Malfoy - character, Drinking, Gen, Harry Potter - character, Hermione Granger - character, Humor, PostWar, Shenanigans, Squabbling, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of house unity and a lot of colorful drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gryffindor and a Slytherin Walk Into a Bar

Hermione groaned and slapped her book shut as the phone rang for the seventh time that hour. Living in Muggle London had seemed a good idea at the time, but she was beginning to regret it. Floo calls were much easier to ignore. She snatched the phone out of the cradle. "McLaggen, if this is you ag--"

"Grange. Ger. Granger." The deep voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it immediately through the sound of people shouting and loud music reverberating down the line. "Granger, it's about time you answered. We've been ringing for _days_. Granger, say something. Blast it. Potter! This fucking thing isn't working! God damned Muggle things."

Hermione blinked and pulled the phone away from her head. That time she'd heard the crisp, posh accents, the heated and irritated emphasis placed on 'Muggle'. She stared at the mouthpiece, then slowly brought it back up to her ear. " _Malfoy_?"

"Oh, there you are. Granger." Draco's voice grew louder, the background noise more muffled, as if he'd cupped his hand over the phone. "Granger, are you home? Well, that's ridiculous, of course you're home, you wouldn't have answered if you weren't. Unless you've got one of those mobile things. Do you have a mobile, Granger? That's what I'm using now. Potter has one, did you know that? I'd say it was brilliant if it weren't clearly some Muggle form of witchcraft." Suddenly he sniggered and there was a clunking sound, then the rustling noises of a struggle and some muffled swearing.

The next voice to come over the line was Harry's. "Sorry about that, Hermione. Turns out Malfoy's chatty as _fuck_ when he's drunk."

Hermione leaned against the side of the sofa and rubbed her temples. "Harry, I do not even know where to begin. What question do I ask first? Why is Malfoy drunk? Why are you with him? Why are you calling me? What in the hell is going on?"

"Not sure, actually," Harry said. "Started out as a couple of drinks to celebrate that thing at work, and now we're somewhere in-- Where are we, Malfoy?" Hermione heard mumbles, and Harry sighed. "No, we are not in the lowest level of hell and that is not a Metamorphmagus. She's a punk, Malfoy. They like their hair that color. Keep your voice down, would you? You're going to get people looking at you. And button your shirt back up, for god's sake."

Hermione stared at the notepad on the table beside the phone cradle, wondering if she'd gone mad or if Harry had. "Sorry again," Harry's voice echoed from the phone. "Not just chatty, but a sodding exhibitionist, apparently. He's already asked three women if they wanted to pet his Basilisk. Hermione, Malfoy can't hold his drink. He probably shouldn't Apparate alone in this state, and I'd fear for my life if I tried to Floo him back to his. Do you have any Sobering potions?"

Hermione clutched the phone. The last time Draco had ended up drunk at her flat had been after the Ministry Christmas party. _That_ had been an awkward breakfast the next morning. She still wasn't sure which of them had come on to who. Not a good idea to let him in again.

"Hermione, are you there? Do you have any Sobering potions or not?"

If only Harry wasn't her best friend. "Well, yes, but--"

"Great! Oi, Malfoy! We're going to Hermione's, c'mon!"

The connection broke and Hermione stared at the phone.

Ten minutes later, the shouts started.

"Granger! Granger! _Granger_!"

Hermione ran down the steps and flung open the door, half-wild with the fear that the Pomeranians next door would wake up and start barking, though she was fairly certain Malfoy's howls would still be louder. "Shut up, you idiots!" she hissed to the two men lurching up her walk. "Do you want everyone to hear you?"

"Malfoy does, 'parently," Harry said, his glasses hanging from one ear. "Hasn't shut up since we left the club. Help me get him inside, Hermione. He's already tried to shag a telephone box."

"It was coming on to me," Draco pronounced. "It asked if I wanted a good time."

Hermione groaned and clapped her hand over her eyes.

"Potter threatened to have me arrested," Draco said, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down his nose. The effect was rather ruined by the way his eyes crossed as he stared at the pointy tip. "Informed him that my father would hear about that. He laughed at me." Draco released Harry and fell against the doorframe, his arms snapping around Hermione's waist. She staggered into the wall and held him up with one hand locked on his belt. "Slap him, Granger," Draco said. "You're good at that."

Hermione rolled her eyes and hauled Draco into her flat. Getting him up the stairs took the combined efforts of Harry pulling Draco's arms and her pushing Draco's arse, and the tight feel of his bum was all that kept her from nagging them into the sitting room. Draco staggered, knocking into her and Harry both at once and spinning her around. Harry fell across the sofa, one shoe lost in the middle of the carpet. Hermione huffed and picked it up, and by the time she got it back on Harry's foot, Draco had disappeared.

"Malfoy!" she shouted, her fists shoved onto her hips. He poked his head out of her bedroom, his fringe over his eyes.

"You sleep with books," he said. "Potter owes me five squids."

She grabbed his wrist and hauled him back into the sitting room, and shoved him onto the sofa next to a drooping Harry. "Squids? You mean quid."

"Whatever." Draco made a loose, flippant gesture, then held his hands up in front of his face and stared at them with wide, bewildered eyes. " _Fuck_ , I've got long fingers. They're like spiders!"

"Harry." Ignoring Draco's awed examination of his own hands, Hermione gripped Harry's chin and lifted his head to force him to look at her. "Harry, how much did he have? How much did you have?"

Harry shrugged, the movement overbalancing him and sending him tipping into Draco, who shoved him back to the corner with a grimace. "Dunno. Malfoy, how many did you have?"

"Gimme a min'." Draco made three attempts to stand up, then surrendered the effort to rise. Instead, he arched his hips to scrabble into his pocket. He dumped a handful of plastic swords on the coffee table and waved at them. "That many. And loads more." He made a face and rubbed his fingers on his tongue. "Shouldn't have had the blue ones. Tasted like squished pixies."

Hermione put both hands over her face and counted to ten. When she looked at the two men again, they were both watching her, expressions full of fearful anticipation. "Potter," Draco said in a 'whisper' that nearly rattled the pictures on her mantelpiece. "I think she's annoyed with us."

"Nah, that's frustrated. Annoyed is when her hair gets like this." Harry spread both hands out, nearly poking Draco in the eye. They squabbled for a moment before Hermione growled, snatched her wand from her pocket, and put a Shield between them. "You," she said, pointing her wand at Harry. "In that corner. And you, Malfoy, in _that_ corner. I am going to get a Sobering potion for the both of you. You are going to drink it. You are both going to sit quietly until it sobers you up, and then you are going to leave my flat and never drink again."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused, both attempting to focus on the tip of her wand. Hermione stomped her foot and stalked into the kitchen to rummage through the cabinet. Idiots. Drunken, irritating - absolutely _not_ amusing - idiots. Was it her curse in life that whenever two men got themselves into trouble, she was the one who had to clear it up? It seemed to be all she ever did.

She poured the potion into two glasses and carried them into the sitting room, where she shoved one glass at each man. "Drink. Now."

Both drank obediently, and Hermione stood watching them, arms folded and foot tapping. Draco slumped back against the sofa, the heels of his hands pressed to his temples and his pointed face wrinkled up in disgust. Harry sat without moving, turned a disquieting shade of purple, and bolted for the loo. Draco made a face as the sounds of retching floated out to them. "Bet it was the tequila," he muttered. "Shouldn't mix tequila and-and-and whatever the green one was."

Hermione fidgeted, wanting to go help Harry and make certain he'd actually got to the toilet, but the idea of leaving Draco alone in her sitting room made her shudder. "C'mon," she finally said, holding one hand out. "Get up. You're coming with me."

Draco brightened and grabbed her hand. "Where we off to? Wait, lemme guess. Bookshop, yeah? That's where Granger spends her Friday nights." He pulled and overbalanced her. Hermione landed in his lap. One of them made a squeak but she wasn't sure which of them it was until she looked at Draco's face and saw the grimace of pain. He squeaked again, wrapped both hands around her waist, and shoved her back to sit on his knees. One hand loosened from her waist and dropped to his groin as he gave another squeak.

"Oh. Oh, _god_ , Malfoy, I'm sorry."

Draco sucked in air, his eyes watering. He opened his mouth. _Squeak_.

Hermione, horrified with herself despite it being his fault for pulling her down, cupped his cheeks and stared into his eyes. "Breathe, Draco. Breathe. C'mon, just breathe. I'm so, so, sorry. Breathe!"

Draco wrapped both arms around her and dropped his head onto her shoulder. He quivered, then a low stream of muffled swearing reached her. Hermione exhaled in relief. "There, see? If you can swear, you're fine." She pushed him. "Now let me go."

Draco lifted his head, almost clipping her chin. "S'posed to kiss it better," he mumbled. Hermione's eyes snapped wide, but that was all she had time for before Draco leaned close and caught her mouth. Too startled to do anything but gulp, Hermione froze as he kissed her. His lips were far more full and soft than they looked, and even completely foxed he was an excellent kisser.

He drew back and grinned at her. "Potter owes me six Galleons," he said, stretching his arms over the sofa. "Bet him I could get you to kiss me again."

Hermione stared blankly for a moment, then smacked Draco in the chest. "You obnoxious, overconfident prat! I'm going to kill _both_ of you!" She twisted on Draco's lap and shouted at the bathroom. "Harry James Potter!"

Draco groaned softly, his head falling forward to burrow into her hair. "Full name. He's in the shit now."

She smacked his chest again. "You shut up, Draco ... Draco. Draco Middlenamehere Malfoy."

"Lucius," he mumbled. He raised his head and spit out one of her curls. "Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione blinked. "Do _all_ purebloods name their sons after themselves?"

"Only the ones with really big and long ... tapestries. We run out of names early on." Draco slowly listed to one side, snickering. "Thought I was gonna say dicks, didn't you?"

Hermione righted him with a sigh. "Sit. Stay." She clambered out of his lap and stomped into the loo. Harry was on the floor beside the commode, clutching it with both arms and mumbling to himself. She caught the words "just lemme put the tip in, Ginny" and jumped backwards, slamming the door behind her. When she turned around, Draco was sprawled across her bed.

Snoring.

 _Loudly_.

Hermione sat on the bed and dropped her head into her hands. "Why, Hermione? Why did you answer the phone?" Giving up on the quiet night she'd planned, she shoved Draco's legs aside and retrieved her book from under his hip. "Harry's in the bathroom," she told his hair as she stole her pillow from him. Sofa for her that night. She'd already learned the lesson about sharing a bed with Draco 'just to sleep'. He was too damned persuasive, even with morning breath. "If you're going to throw up, don't trip on him."


End file.
